


Together is a Wonderful Place to be

by BreathOfThePhoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied Sexual Content, Past Relationship(s), Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22531501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreathOfThePhoenix/pseuds/BreathOfThePhoenix
Summary: When an old flame returns to town, can Hermione put their troubles in the past and start over?Written for the Strictly Dramione Valentine's Day Fic Exchange Fest
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 18
Kudos: 86
Collections: Strictly Dramione Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange Fest





	Together is a Wonderful Place to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seakays](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seakays/gifts).



> Written for the Strictly Dramione Valentine's Day Fic Exchange Fest for the lovely Seakays! 
> 
> My prompts were: Regret, responsibility, reason, respect

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

“So then you just put your leg up like this,” Ginny said, pulling her leg up against her shoulder.

“Oh my gods. Stop. Stop this right now!” Hermione squealed, throwing a pillow at Ginny’s face. “I did _not_ need to see that.”

Ginny grinned at her and dropped her leg back to the floor. She sat down next to Hermione on the couch.

“Honestly, Hermione. You know that Harry and I are –”

“STOP! I do not need to know about your sex life with Harry! I heard it plenty when I was living with you and don’t need to add any visuals, thanks.”

Hermione stood up and walked into her kitchen, mumbling the whole time about red-headed witches with no sense of privacy. Yes, Ginny was her best friend, but Harry was her brother. And the disgusting thought of her brother having sex far outweighed the fun of girl talk. Ginny could go and show off how flexible she was to someone else.

“You know, you’d be a lot more fun if I could talk about these things with you,” Ginny said, joining Hermione in the kitchen. She hopped up onto the counter and watched as Hermione began boiling water for tea.

“Gin, if you tell me one more story about you and Harry I’ll tell you all the ones about Ron and me.”

Ginny made a gagging noise and shook her head. “I’m good, thanks. Though, I do need to tell you something about my idiot brother.”

Hermione passed Ginny her tea and then leaned against the counter by her friend. “What did he do this time? Or should I say who?”

“Some fan he met after a game a few months ago. Mum’s right pissed. She’s telling him he has to marry her.”

“You don’t mean… Ron got someone pregnant?” 

“That he did. He’s being a tosser to mum right now, but he’ll come around like usual.”

Hermione nodded her head. She was in fact used to Ron’s bouts of stupidity. Their relationship had only lasted a year, most of which consisted of bickering. Ron would say something stupid and Hermione would chastise him, and it would just build from there. It wasn’t that Ron was stupid — he was brilliant at Quidditch and chess, but he did not crave knowledge the same way Hermione did. 

In the end, their split was amicable, with both realizing that they were not meant to be together. It had been four years since then, and Hermione and Ron were finally able to be friends again. 

“She seems nice though. Ron brought her for Sunday dinner last week. She’s not the dumb bint I was expecting her to be. I think she’ll keep him on his toes,” Ginny continued.

“I’m happy for Ron,” Hermione said quietly. She truly was, but it became glaringly obvious to her that she was still completely single.

As if reading her mind, Ginny said, “Do you have plans for Valentine’s Day?” 

“By plans, do you mean to ask if I’m spending my evening with a bottle of wine, a good book, and Crookshanks, again? Then yes.”

“Harry and I are having some people over on Friday as an early Valentine’s Day party and I could ask some of my teammates if they have any cute single friends. You should come. You never know who might be there.”

“I hate Valentine’s Day. You know this.”

“Well then just come for the party. Spend time with your best friend in the whole world.” Ginny batted her eyelashes at Hermione, a smile dancing on her lips. 

Hermione groaned. She hated parties. There were too many people, too much alcohol, and she always went to bed far too late. 

She hated Valentine’s Day even more. 

Crookshanks twisted around her feet, reminding her that if she didn’t go out it would be _another_ Friday night spent alone. 

“Ginevra Weasley, do not make me regret this.” 

* * *

“Stop fussing with your hair. It’s perfect!”

Ginny stepped away and Hermione studied herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a short, black crepe dress that hugged her curves. It had thin straps and an open back that dipped low. She had never felt sexy and self-conscious at the same time. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me wear this.” She twisted around, looking at herself from a different angle. 

“Well, if you want to find a date for Valentine’s Day, this is the way to do it. The boys won’t be able to keep their hands off you!”

Hermione smiled at herself in the mirror. It felt like she was looking at someone else. Her hair hung in loose curls down her back, a small clip pulling it off her face. Ginny had applied some very light makeup, just enough to highlight her features.

“Thank you, Ginny. Go get dressed so we can leave before I change my mind!”

Ginny laughed and left the room, taking her lacy red dress with her. Hermione slipped on her red pumps and fastened the thin strap around her ankle. She waved her wand to apply a cushioning charm on her shoes and a sticking charm on her dress, hoping to avoid any potential malfunctions with the low cut.

When both girls were ready, they Floo’d to Grimmauld Place. Hermione hoped they’d be early and that she could slip out once the party was in full swing. 

No such luck. 

As soon as she stepped into the kitchen she was hit with the sound of upbeat music and laughter. There were people milling around, toasting drinks and telling stories. Hermione immediately wished she’d stayed home. No guy could be worth this.

* * *

Hermione took a deep drink of her wine, finishing the glass. She nodded along and smiled to every wizard Ginny introduced her to, all of them as boring as the last.

“I’m sorry, I need to get some air.” Without hesitating, she turned on her heel and walked away from the man she had been talking to. If you could even call him a man. He was barely out of Hogwarts. Honestly, what was Ginny thinking?

Hermione stepped out into the dark February night. She cast a warming charm around her and leaned against the railing. 

“My my, have I been poisoned, or is Hermione Granger actually at a party?”

She turned to see Draco Malfoy standing next to her, holding out a glass of wine. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Last I heard you were travelling the world with Blaise and Theo.”

Draco ran a hand through his platinum locks and laughed bitterly. “I was. I got back last week.” He paused and turned to face her. “Look, Granger, I can explain, I –”

“Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t need to hear how sorry you are. I don’t need to hear about how much you regret leaving me, on Valentine’s Day I might add. What possible reason could you have?” 

Hermione stepped away from the railing and turned to go back inside, making her way through the crowds of people. 

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” asked Ginny as Hermione stormed past her, heading towards the Floo.

“You didn’t think it was important to tell me Draco-sodding-Malfoy was not only back in town but at this party?”

Frowning, Ginny stuttered, “He wanted to talk to you. I knew you would never come if I told you he was going to be here.”

“I can’t believe you!” Hermione stormed away, leaving Ginny speechless and ashamed.

“Granger! Granger, wait!” Draco was running up behind her. Thankfully she was far enough ahead of him and was able to make it to the Floo in the kitchen before he could grab her.

She took a pinch of Floo powder and stood facing him, tears streaming down her face. He was reaching for her, begging her to stay and talk. 

“Granger townhouse.” 

And then he was gone.

And she was alone.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was curled up on her bed, dressed in soft sleep shorts and a t-shirt. Crookshanks curled up against her and was purring loudly as she scratched behind his ears.

“Just you and me, my sweet boy. I don’t need anyone else but you.” 

She could hear the Floo in the livingroom activate and saw a flash of green coming from down the hall. 

There was a soft knock on her door. She rolled over to see Harry leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey ‘Mione.”

“I hate that nickname,” she grumbled and rolled back to face away from him.

She felt the dip in her bed when Harry came and sat down beside her. He ran his hand through her curls, something that had calmed her down since she was eleven years old. 

Hermione rolled over and put her head in his lap while he continued to stroke her hair. She felt tears slip from her eyes and fought unsuccessfully to hold them back.

“It’s okay, shh,” Harry whispered. He moved his hand so it was rubbing her back soothingly. 

She wiped her tears and sniffed, trying not to get snot on Harry’s trousers. “He’s a prat.”

“Of course he is. We’ve known this for years.” Harry sighed and pulled Hermione up so she was sitting. He wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. “He’s not the same prat though and you know it.”

“I loved him, Harry.”

“Did you ever stop loving him?”

“No, I don’t think so. But he hurt me. How do I just forgive him for leaving so suddenly?”

Harry sighed and hugged her closer. “You start by talking to him. Let him explain.” 

“What could he possibly have to explain?”

“Did you know that I hated being an Auror?”

Hermione sat up and looked at Harry, confused. “Where is this coming from? What does this have to do with Draco?”

Harry rubbed his hand along his forehead where his scar used to be, a habit he had picked up in his youth. “I would be gone for days,” he continued as if Hermione hadn’t spoken, “and I’d never know if or when I’d come home. I couldn’t tell Ginny where I was going, and I had no way to communicate with her while I was out. It took a toll on us both.”

“Isn’t going on missions and putting away the bad wizards why you wanted to become an Auror in the first place?

“Yes, but there will always be more bad wizards. This wasn’t like defeating Voldemort where I could see a clear victory. There will always be another mission, another Death Eater to capture, another secret to keep. I want to have a family one day, and I don’t want to leave them without a father. When McGonagall approached me last June and asked me to come teach, it felt like fate. ”

Hermione sat in silence, contemplating what Harry had said and trying to understand how Draco fit into all this. He wasn’t an Auror. He ran a consulting firm. He went on business trips and held meetings with small business owners. He didn’t catch evil wizards.

The sound of the Floo came from her living room. Hermione froze, unsure of who would appear in her bedroom next. 

She counted the footsteps as the person moved from her living room to bedroom. Crookshanks jumped off the bed and greeted the guest, winding himself around them.

“Hey Potter, I think your wife is looking for you. The party got out of hand and she needs help getting people home.”

Harry squeezed Hermione and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Listen to what he has to say. He’s still a git, but he’s not as horrible as you think he is.”

Harry moved across the room to face Draco. Hermione listened carefully as Harry spoke in a low, threatening voice. 

“Fix this, and I swear to Merlin if you lay an unwanted hand on her, I’ll–”

“I won’t. You have my word.”

Harry nodded his head and gave Hermione one last reassuring look before leaving. 

Draco stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking horribly out of place in his crisp suit. He shoved his hands in his pockets and licked his lips nervously. “Can I come in?”

Hemione nodded her head and scooted over on the bed to give him space to sit. 

“I shouldn’t have left you like that. I should have...I should have told you the truth.”

Hermione toyed with the hem of her shorts. “What is the truth, Draco?”

Seconds ticked by and Hermione was on edge, waiting for Draco to respond, going through every possibility in her mind of what secret he might be keeping and why he wasn’t honest with her to begin with.

Finally, Draco spoke, his voice low and uneasy. “I have been running a consulting firm, I was honest about that. But…” He took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling. “But I did a lot of consulting for the Ministry. There are still Death Eaters out there, trying to resurrect Voldemort’s ideologies. Potter and his team caught a good portion of sympathizers in Britain, but Europe was full of them.”

“I don’t understand. You’re an Auror? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not an Auror. Not really. Many places in Eastern Europe weren’t aware of how everything happened here, just that Voldemort was gone. As far as they were concerned, I remained a loyal follower of the Dark Lord.”

Hermione shuddered at his casual usage of the term. 

“Two years after the war, Kingsley approached me, asking me to act as a consultant on some of the Auror’s tougher cases. He wanted to keep me as a spy of sorts so that I would still have the trust of any Death Eaters still out there. Most of my business trips have been undercover missions on behalf of the ministry.”

Neither of them spoke. Hermione wasn’t sure what to say and had a feeling Draco was probably not done talking. 

Sure enough, he continued on. “A little over a year ago, I was told I needed to go undercover again, this time in Ukraine. No one knew how long I’d be gone or if I’d be moving between groups. They said this could be it. This could get us the information we need to help the Ukrainian ministry lock up the rest of the Death Eaters.”

Draco reached over and grabbed Hermione’s hand. She flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. 

“I stayed up for days before I left, unsure of how or what to tell you. I knew I had to be careful and not put you in danger. I’m a good Legilimens, but everyone has their weaknesses, and you are mine. If I was caught and they found you...I could never forgive myself, Granger. I would rather die knowing you are safe than live with the guilt of knowing you’d been hurt because of me.” He reached up and wiped a fallen tear from her cheek. “It took countless visits to mind healers for me to cope with what happened to you at the hands of my aunt. I still haven’t totally forgiven myself for that, but I know you won’t let me apologize anymore.”

“The war was bigger than us, Draco. Don’t apologize for _that_.” Hermione stressed the last word so that he’d know he wasn’t off the hook for an apology of some sort. She was still angry with him for keeping such a huge secret from her for so long. 

He brought his forehead to hers so they were touching, his silver eyes gazing into her chocolate ones. “What I did to you last year was horrible and awful and wrong and I am so sorry.”

Hermione pulled back slightly to take a better look at his face. She hadn’t noticed it at the party, too caught up in seeing him there at all, but there were small creases around his eyes and his once pointy features had softened. She lifted a hand to his cheek, noticing that his cheekbones were less prominent. His eyes were the same silver she had fallen in love with, exposing all the emotions he worked so hard to bottle up. He was still Draco, but he wore a different mask.

The signs of a spoiled child were gone and in their wake was a man who had regrets, felt pain, and experienced loss. He had gone through so much in the last year.

“Talk to me. What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” he asked softly.

“I thought you had met someone else. That you didn’t love me,” she said quietly, her voice catching at the end. 

It wasn’t a complete lie. She had spent many nights awake with Ginny, smashing plates and yelling into the void about some perfect blonde that he was probably shagging on some exotic island. 

Draco let out a small chuckle. “My love, you are the reason I woke up every morning. Every single day, I’d remember your smile and your laugh and how your hair looked first thing in the morning. No one makes tea quite like you do, either.”

Hermione let out a small laugh. Merlin, she missed this man.

“Can we start over?” she asked in a small voice, her eyes cast down nervously. 

Draco lifted his hand to her chin and pushed it up so she was looking at him. Her bottom lip trembled with worry. “We can start wherever you’d like.” 

She could see the hesitation in his eyes as he looked at her. Inhaling deeply, she moved closer to him, her fingers tangling with his own. He moved his hand from her chin to the side of her face, their noses barely brushing together before Hermione leaned in and closed the distance, her lips pressing against his.

Their mouths moved slowly, like two teenagers kissing for the first time. Draco’s lips were soft but forceful, reminding her of all the kisses they had once shared. She had forgotten how much she had missed kissing him.

Draco untangled his hand from hers and brought it up to her face, deepening the kiss. She weaved her fingers through his hair, soaking in his every touch, pulling him closer. 

“I missed you,” she said breathlessly between kisses.

“Go on a date with me? A second first date if you will. On Valentine’s Day.” He pulled back so they were looking at each other again, studying the other’s reaction. 

She pressed her lips together and nodded. Draco placed one last kiss to her lips and then stood up. Stopping at the door, he gave her a smile that made butterflies flutter in her stomach. “I’ll make everything up to you, I promise.” 

* * *

“Where is he taking you?” Ginny asked, sitting cross-legged on Hermione’s bed, flipping through a Muggle fashion magazine. 

“I don’t know! He’s only said that I need to dress up, which is not a hint coming from the man who has been wearing custom suits since he was sixteen.” Hermione was standing in front of the mirror in her bathroom, trying and failing to twist her hair into some semblance of an updo. “Ugh, Gin, can you come help?”

Ginny joined Hermione in the bathroom and took over, combing and twisting hair until it was pulled back into a sleek french twist. She used her wand to cast a sticking charm, ensuring that no traitorous curls sprung free throughout the evening.

“Alright, time for makeup. I’m doing it and you can’t stop me,” said Ginny forcefully. She pointed to the edge of the bathtub, and stood waiting until Hermione was seated. 

Hermione sat patiently, if not annoyed, as Ginny poked and prodded her with various tools. The floor around them became cluttered with more products than Hermione knew the names for. 

“What colour dress are you wearing?” 

“I was going to wear that red one I wore to the ministry Christmas party.” 

Ginny groaned and lifted a hand to her head in fake disgust. “Hermione, I love you, but you’re going on a date with a Slytherin. Do you really think _red_ is the best colour option?”

“We’ve been out of Hogwarts for five years now! You really don’t think he’d care about that, do you?” Hermione chewed on her lip in thought. “Besides, we dated before. The Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalries are in our past, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wearing red. Now, close your eyes and don’t you dare move,” Ginny instructed. 

Hermione did as she was told. She struggled against the need to flinch when a cold liquid ran across the top of her eyelid. 

After twenty minutes of what felt like torture, Hermione was finally allowed to stand up and see the final product. 

Hermione gasped when she looked at herself. The woman in the mirror was clearly her. Same chocolate brown eyes and full lips, but she looked more refined. She looked beautiful. Ginny had used soft greys and creams to highlight her eyes, and a subtle pink stain to her lips. It was natural and elegant and made Hermione feel like someone who could take on the world. 

Was that why women wore makeup? Was it truly not about impressing a man?

“Alright, enough staring. Malfoy will do that plenty tonight. Let me see that dress you wore over the weekend.” Ginny ushered Hermione back into the bedroom and waited for her to pull the black dress out of the closet. 

Hermione waited while Ginny looked through the magazine from earlier and back to the black dress, a determined look on her face. She would hold a page up to the dress before flipping the page and doing it again.

“Ha! Got it!”

Ginny pulled out her wand, casting silent modification spells to the dress. Hermione watched as the hemline dropped to the floor and new straps criss-crossed over the back. The material shifted from crepe into a smooth silk that looked like butter. Colours swirled around the dress before finally stopping on a forest green that resembled something of the Slytherin robes from school.

Hermione stood in awe of Ginny’s wand work. “Where did you learn all those spells? I’ve never seen a colour modification one quite like it.”

“You don’t really think I could afford all those new uniforms and dresses throughout school, did you? Mum taught us all how to do those spells the minute we go our wands. Ron was just rubbish at them and gave up.”

“You’re brilliant, Ginny. So much more than just some Quidditch player.” Hermione teased, pulling her friend into a hug. 

Ginny laughed and pulled back to swat at her playfully. “Best female Quidditch player in a century, thank you very much!”

Hermione pulled her new dress from the hanger and stepped into it. The material was even softer against her skin and she wondered why people didn’t wear silk all the time. Then she remembered that people like Draco Malfoy probably did. 

“He’s going to fall all over himself when he sees you,” Ginny said grinning. “He’ll be here soon, I should probably go.”

“Wait, Ginny.” Hermione put a hand on her friend’s arm to stop her. “Why did you forgive him so quickly? You saw how hurt I was when he left.”

Ginny sighed and stayed quiet for a few moments, looking like she was toying with what to say. “I didn’t at first,” she said finally, “but then Harry reminded me what it was like when he was an Auror. He’d be gone for days at a time with no contact. Sometimes I had no idea when he’d be home.”

Hermione stood silently while she processed what Ginny had said. This was her best friend she was talking to, and yet she had no idea that Ginny had gone through so much for so long. 

“When Malfoy got word that he was going on another mission, he came and talked to Harry, unsure of what to do. Harry told him how hard it was on us and I guess Malfoy didn’t want to put you through that.”

“How long did you know he was working for the Aurors?”

Ginny chewed on her lip and looked away from Hermione, guilt written all over her face. “Harry told me in July. He wasn’t working for the Ministry anymore and couldn’t get any of the updates that Draco or his team might have sent in. Not that there were ever any updates.”

“So he told you and not me?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at Ginny skeptically. 

“Harry, like Draco, can be a bit dense at times. They were only trying to protect you.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what to say; the past few days had been full of revelations. First, her ex-boyfriend, maybe now boyfriend, was actually a spy working for the Auror department and had been going on missions for the year and a half they dated, and then she learned that her two best friends knew about it the whole time.

“Hey Gin,” Hermione said finally, “it wasn’t your responsibility to tell me, and I respect your choice not to, but don’t do it again. Be my friend first, not Draco’s.”

Ginny nodded her head and gave Hermione a small smile. “I know. No more secrets.” She handed Hermione the black shoes and clutch purse to complete the outfit. Before heading to the Floo, Ginny gave Hermione a tight hug. 

Hermione grabbed her long winter coat and moved to the living room, anxiously awaiting Draco’s arrival. They had owled each other over the weekend, though it was mostly her reassuring him that she still wanted to give him a second chance.

Much as she wanted to scream at him and tell him he was a horrible person, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She was, after all, the person who Obliviated her parents for the same reason. How could she be so critical of him for something she had done years prior?

The Floo activated and Hermione turned to see her date standing in front of her fireplace, his hands behind his back. In typical Draco fashion, he was wearing a fitted black suit, his platinum locks styled in a way that made it look like he hadn’t done anything to it, though Hermione knew he spent _hours_ agonizing in front of a mirror to perfect it. 

She giggled when she noticed his tie. “I didn’t think you owned anything red, Draco.”

He looked from his tie to her dress and back to his tie. “Shit. I thought red would be a safe bet with you Gryffindors.” Pulling out his wand, he quickly cast a _Finite_ spell, turning the tie back to its regular black. He tucked his wand back into his suit jacket and handed Hermione a bouquet of flowers in various shades of pinks and purples. “For you. It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t get you something cliché.”

Hermione took the flowers and inhaled the subtle sweet smell radiating from them, noticing irises, roses, and peonies. She summoned a vase and used an _Aguamenti_ spell to fill it with water. “Thank you, Draco. These are beautiful.”

“Tu es si belle.” He moved forward and placed a soft kiss to her cheek. “Ready to go?”

She nodded her head, a blush rising to her cheeks, and stored her wand in her bag. Draco helped her into her coat before offering his arm. “Are we Apparating there?”

“A quick Floo trip to Diagon Alley. We can walk the rest of the way.” 

Hermione was conflicted over going somewhere public on their second first date. While she wasn’t opposed to any of the restaurants in Diagon Alley, she had hoped that he would be a bit more imaginative. He was trying to fix things, right?

She stepped into the Floo first, calling out her destination. When she arrived in the Leaky Cauldron’s fireplace, she stepped aside for Draco to come through. He offered her his arm and began walking them to the door.

To Muggle London.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked, excited.

Draco smiled at her, pure joy shining in his eyes. “It’s a surprise. I promise you’ll love it.” 

* * *

Hermione had been fascinated by France for as long as she could remember. She loved the language, the food, the art, the history, the feel. For years, she begged her parents to take her to Paris so she could see it in person. They finally surprised her with a trip the month before she left for Hogwarts., and it was everything she ever wanted it to be and more.

The first time she went to Diagon Alley, she’d noticed the beautiful hotel and restaurant that looked like it had been transported right from 1920s Paris. There were flowers blooming on the patio and people dressed to the nines drinking expensive champagne and eating bread with more types of cheese than she knew names for. 

She begged her parents to take her there. It would be just like Paris, she had told them.

The hotel looked different in the cold February air over ten years later, but Hermione still saw the same beauty she had as a child. There were no flowers in bloom outside and no one dared to sit on the patio, but she could feel the warm glow that emanated from the large windows. Silhouettes moved behind sheer curtains, carrying trays of bubbly drinks in tall glasses to guests dripping in diamonds and pearls. 

“You’re familiar?” Draco said as they stood out front.

Hermione nodded her head, dumbstruck at the beauty of the building. “I’ve dreamt of going here since before Hogwarts.”

Tugging on her hand, Draco led her into the building. She barely registered what was happening as someone took her coat and escorted them to their table in the back, her feet moving of their own accord. 

The maitre d’ spoke to Draco in French, his voice low. Since she’d entered the Wizarding World, Hermione’s French had lapsed, but she was able to understand that Draco had ordered their finest wine. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said when they were alone again, “but with it being Valentine’s Day they have a special menu. Everything Parisian, of course.”

“Of course,” she murmured, still astounded by the beauty that was the inside of the building.

Several small chandeliers hung from the ceiling, surrounding one larger one in the middle of the room, each glistening with hundreds of small crystals. The tables were small, intimate, and lit with candles. No matter where you sat in the room, you were able to have a private conversation, backed only by the sound of a grand piano being played. 

“This is incredible, Draco. When I was a child and asked my parents to take me here, they laughed. Now I see why.” 

Draco let out a small chuckle. “You deserve to be spoiled.” 

Throughout their meal, Hermione would catch Draco looking at her, a blush instantly rising to her cheeks. She would send him small smiles, gazing at him through her long lashes. He would brush his fingers along the back of her hand, prompting her to slide her foot up his leg, teasing.

They spoke of their year apart, each unsure of how to ask the questions they so desperately needed answers to. When Draco asked if she had been seeing anyone, Hermione laughed loudly, startling those sitting at tables around them.

She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. “The closest I’ve come to a date since you left has been Friday nights spent with Crookshanks.”

Draco grinned at her, capturing her hand in his. “Do you think he’d mind if I stole you away again?”

Hermione shook her head, her grin spreading to match his. 

When dessert was finally served, Hermione asked the question she had been dying to know the answer to since she first saw him again.

“What was it like? Your mission?”

Draco took a sip of his wine before speaking, clearly stalling. “It was the toughest thing I’ve ever done,” he said finally. “Before, when we were in Hogwarts, I was conflicted. I knew that something wasn’t right with what my parents raised me to believe, but I was so immersed in it all I didn’t know what opinions were mine or theirs. This time...this time I knew what I believed and I knew what was right, and finally, those were the same thing.”

Hermione nodded her head in understanding. When they dated the first time, Draco had explained it to her — how he began to doubt it all in their sixth year when he saw what he, a child, was being forced to do. It didn’t erase their past, but it was something he admitted to be working on. “Mind healers,” he had said. 

“Being in a place where I was forced to revert back to who I was as a child was terrifying. I was so scared of slipping back into that person I once was.” He reached for her hand across the table. “Thinking of you kept me sane. You’re the reason I was able to come back in one piece.”

She nodded her head thoughtfully, gently squeezing his hand. “I think I understand now, why you left like you did.”

“Do you hate me?” he asked quietly. Nervously. 

“I could never hate you, Draco. Not really. I wanted to. After you left, I tried so hard to hate you. Love is a fickle thing and it would have been so easy to cross the line between the two. There was always something stopping me, though. I would come across a book you bought me, or a ticket stub from a concert I dragged you to, and I would be back completely in love with you.”

She couldn’t remember a time where Draco blushed, but here he was, cheeks glowing red and his eyes alight with joy. 

He paid for their meal, shocking Hermione when he used a Muggle card to pay. “What?” he asked, “You don’t think I’d carry around all the money in my pocket, do you?”

He took her hand and they made their way through the snowy London streets, their cheeks rosy from the cold. 

“Have you figured it out yet?” he teased her with a smirk.

“I wasn’t aware there was something for me to figure out? Here I was thinking you were just trying to spoil me with beautiful flowers and French food.”

Draco tugged on her hand and pulled her so she was facing him, her hand braced on his chest for stability. He leaned down and brushed his nose against her jaw. “I told you, Granger, you deserve to be spoiled.” 

Hermione waited with bated breath for him to close the distance and kiss her. Their brief but heated kiss the other night had lit a fire in her stomach and her whole body ached for him to touch her again. 

“Come on,” he said, pulling away from her. “We’re going to be late.”

“Late for what?” she asked, disappointment laced in her voice at the sudden lack of contact.

Draco turned her around and pointed to the building across the street. Curling around the building’s soft edge was a red, white, and blue poster, the face of a young girl staring back at them. White lights twinkled around the large sign displaying what was showing in the building.

“ _Les Miserables_?” Hermione asked breathlessly. 

“I know it’s your favourite.”

She pulled him down and kissed him fiercely, ignoring the grumbles coming from the busy Londoners moving around them. Draco moved his hands so they were holding her waist tightly. Hermione wound her arms around his neck, keeping him close. She felt his tongue dip into her mouth, dancing with her own. 

If their kiss the other night caused butterflies to take off, this one was like Fiendfyre igniting. It could heal the wounds left behind by time and reawaken the youth in one’s soul. It was all consuming and powerful and pure magic.

It was entirely inappropriate to be kissing like this in public.

Draco broke the spell they’d fallen under, pressing his forehead to hers, inhaling deeply to steady his breath. Hermione could feel her heart pounding, threatening to tear through her chest at a moment’s notice.

“Irises...Fleur de lis,” said Hermione, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “You speaking French, French restaurant, a musical based on the French revolution…”

“Leave it to you to be solving a puzzle while snogging.” He gave her a quick peck before leading them to into the theatre, a hop in his step.

* * *

“Stay for a drink?”

They were standing in front of her fireplace, having just arrived home from their date. 

Draco leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once, twice. It gave her tingles, desperation for more seeping into her bones. 

Hermione brought her hands up to his lapels, visibly nervous. Since the house lights turned on at the end of the musical, her heart and mind had both been racing. She knew how she wanted the night to end and only hoped that he was feeling the same way.

Their lips moved against each other again and Draco slipped her jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. His hands drifted along her bare back, leaving goose pimples in their wake and sending a shiver down her spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her neck. His hands moved until they cupped her arse, pulling her hips flush against his. She could feel his hardened member against her belly and the desire to feel it against her bare skin consumed her.

“Never stop.”

Everything moved quickly then. Wet kisses placed against warm skin, clothes discarded in piles on the floor. He pulled her up against him again and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He groaned when she ground her pelvis against him and quickened his steps to the bedroom.

Sex with Draco turned out to be like riding a bike — they easily fell back into a rhythm, muscle memory taking over. He remembered the places to lick and bite to make her scream and shake with pleasure. She knew exactly how to move her tongue in ways that had him praying to Salazar, Merlin, and even Godric-bloody-Gryffindor. 

They took their time, teasing, playing, and getting to know each other’s bodies again. She found new ways to make him groan and was delighted when he was able to bring her to ecstasy more times than she was able to count before finding his own.

Hermione lay with her head on his chest, listening to his racing heart against her ear. He pushed a sweaty curl back from her face and placed a soft kiss to her temple.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
